


Fire and ice

by forfanfic



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: Actor RPF - Freeform, F/M, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Smut, gwendolaj - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29610108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forfanfic/pseuds/forfanfic
Summary: Soon after the table reading for Season 8, Nik and Gwen meet to rant about their characters' fates.
Relationships: Gwendoline Christie/Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	Fire and ice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LovingGwendolaj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovingGwendolaj/gifts).



> Thank you so much to every one who encouraged me in my first two works. And a special thanks to those who supported me when a hater decided to spew their venom all over my comments space in the previous fic.
> 
> Dear those who can't stand RPFs, the work is clearly tagged. Please stay away if it bothers you. 
> 
> This one is for LovingGwendolaj whose work I am absolutely in awe of <3  
> You bring Nik and Gwen's explosive chemistry to life like no one else, so I'm kinda nervous gifting this to you. Hope you like it.

“I can’t believe we ended up with such a raw deal.”

Nik lowered his glass to frown at her. “Why are you so surprised? We knew we wouldn’t enjoy this the day they emailed us the script.”

Gwen scowled at the memory of that day. “Remember the annoying emoji you texted me?”

“And you sent me a disgusted smiley back.” He smirked. “Your reply stands out more than the unveiling of our fate.” Losing the smile, he gave her a look that told her to put aside her personal preferences and consider this as just another disappointing scene in the many that actors in their career have to put up with and take in their stride. “I’m not satisfied either. After six seasons of longing and pining and heart-eyes, Jaime should have stayed at Winterfell and not run into the arms of his sister.”

“He didn’t do it because he loved Cersei more,” she said thoughtfully. Fuck the scripts. This relationship went beyond that. The writers had the power to play around with their characters’ emotions and defy logic, but this was George R.R. Martin’s baby first and theirs only after that, so it felt absolutely unfair that they simply smashed to dust one of the most beautiful slow-burn romances on television after such a careful buildup. “Whatever our scenes might say—”

“Jaime loves Brienne.” He put down his empty glass. “Their arc deserved better. After so much sexual tension, their first and only love scene should have been so much more.”

“All we get is a drunken mess. One kiss and a post-coital scene where Jaime stares at the ceiling as if he regrets this.” Gwen let out an angry noise. “It should’ve been—” She squeezed her thighs together, picturing in her head, her writhing body pounded by him. “Furious fucking or tender lovemaking, either would have been acceptable. But we got neither.”

“I did like the _‘It’s bloody hot in here’_ awkwardness. But once they got past that, a good deal of seduction would’ve been hot to get going,” he said. When this turned into a vision in her mind, she hid behind another gulp of her drink. She couldn’t let Nik see how turned on she was just by the thought of being seduced by him on screen. “If I were in charge of the writing and direction, I would have done it very differently,” he stated emphatically.

It would have been wiser for her to put an end to their hush-hush rendezvous and return to her room, but she left her comfortable seat on the couch to place herself in front of him. “How do you mean?”

He rose. Picking up the bottle of scotch lying on the table, he pulled open the cork with his teeth. That was so Jaime. _Gods, it was sexy as hell!_ It reminded her of the way Jaime was meant to chew his shirt open, and when she let Nik enact it in her head, Gwen felt like she was standing at the edge of a volcanic pit. Burning winds covered her from all directions; there was no escape; nothing she could do except ignore her dry throat and throbbing cunt and hope this feeling would go away when he was done with narrating his version of the scene.

He spat the cork away and caught her in his heated gaze. “It’s bloody hot in here,” he began, Jaime style, longing and jealousy and everything that was expected of the lovelorn knight reflecting in his eyes.

Those words, though they had sounded cheesy on paper, felt like a _come hither_ the way he mouthed them. It was like tiny sparks attacking her from all sides. A change of mood probably would help her cool down. She forced a smile to distract herself from her hardening nipples and that growing gnawing between her thighs. “Is that all you’ve got? You said something about writing and directing it differently.”

Bottle hanging precariously from his left hand, he approached her, making her personal space his own. When his breath met hers, Gwen’s heart skipped a beat; her cunt thudded with an extra beat. It did feel different. He took a rough swig of the liquor just like his one-handed Jaime would, and that too felt different. “It is really hot in here,” he complained again, setting the bottle aside. The line sounded entirely different this time. 

Her mind struggled to combat his flirtatious advance with a reply, but by the time she could be out with it, he began kissing her. 

_Fuck!_

She shivered at the double intoxication of the man and his booze. When the warmth of him and the strong taste of his drink trickled in, she kissed him back, giving him her tongue, soliciting his. Such was his charm and the peak of this moment that she couldn’t help herself. First kisses were special. Her past ones were too. But this was like being transported to the beginning of an erotic novel where sparks begin to fly and bodies begin to catch fire. Theirs was a typical case of the handsome hero and his heroine dancing around their urges, edging around the line, taking care not to cross it but teasing the other and getting teased themselves. 

And when they finally succumb— 

He joyfully devoured her tongue, giving her his in return. Sensations and emotions. Were these two not interconnected? Did lust and arousal not share a fine bond with longing and yearning and everything else that had been bubbling between them over the years of their shoot? The banter in the sets, the subtle flirting in interviews, the vibes they sent across to the others on the show… Six years of hiding behind Jaime and Brienne, hoping this would go away as soon as the show ended. Were they not always heading towards this? They were bound to explode someday.

Nik made his way down her neck with hot slowness, his kisses an irresistible combination of licks and nibbles. She could feel the sharp burn of the liquor where teeth dug into skin. The softness of his moist tongue only jacked up the torment. “Oh yes,” she sighed, and he went further, sucking the hollow of her throat as nimble fingers groped her breast, the squeezing and caressing he was punishing her with eliciting a pounding ache between her legs. Her brain going into overdrive, Gwen pressed into him, moving her hips against him as their tongues caressed, his drink and his desire setting fire to the welcoming depths of her mouth. His other hand went around to her ass, pulling her closer, another part of him stirring in immediate response to her touch, thickening and stiffening against her. Selfless in his kisses, he was lavish in the way he touched and stroked her, and her body went from one rush of sensations to another.

She couldn’t stop herself when her hand dragged down to the irresistibly hard bulge. She traced a finger along the seam of his zipper, and when he gave her a gasp and a bite to her lip, she gathered her other fingers around the glorious shaft that begged to be cupped and massaged. Their lips still fused, he twitched to her raw hunger, struggling moans filling her mouth as she gave him a taste of the starter from the three-course meal to come.

Speaking of feasts, it would be absolutely unfair if she couldn’t get the privilege of her share.

Breaking the kiss, she lowered to her knees, and ogling his hard cock with relish, she pounced on his belt, eager to get past this irksome barrier of clothes that kept him from her.

“I thought this was supposed to be me seducing you,” he said, when she slid down his pants.

“I thought this was supposed to be Jaime seducing Brienne.” 

She caressed him through the thin material of his shorts; she could feel the beginnings of his tremors. His hand curled around her neck when she played with him, pressing his shaft against him, then letting go, and then gently dragging her thumb across his crotch. She kissed him there, feeling his angry growls shudder down his torso to her mouth, taking in the heady scent of his masculinity. 

She dragged down the underwear, and when his length sprang up on her, she lifted her eyes up to his as she ran her fingers up and down his tautness. She teased him at the tip, and his eyes darkened. She gripped the base, and he gasped, his fingers pressing deeper into her neck. She held on, her pussy tingling at the way he was looking at him. She parted her lips and took him in. She pushed down on him, tongue fluttering around the fullness in her mouth. She forced away all other sensations, letting this one enjoy its dominance. She focused on him and his pleasure, licking gently from balls to tip and then the other way round. She sucked him, and he swelled inside her, getting even harder. She worked him with her hand, her mouth, her tongue—to make him come with his whole body shuddering was her earnest aim. Her sucking and licking; the slickness of her mouth around his thickness and the slurping sound; every thrust hit her clit, and it in turn reminded her of her need. Fingers tugging at the collar of her tee, he fucked her mouth. 

He thrust violently, hitting the roof of her mouth. He gripped her hard, and just when she thought he was about to come, he jerked her mouth off. “My turn for a taste,” he demanded, looking like a predator waiting to devour its prey.

Gwen stumbled to her feet, and then a mad rush ensued, both almost literally tearing their way to nakedness. As soon as they got there, he pushed her on the couch. He was on his knees now, leaning, kissing, pulling at each nipple and nibbling his way down to her cunt.

“Fire and ice,” he seductively announced, and when she was about to ask what he meant, he reached for the ice-box on the table and popped a cube out and held it between his teeth.

“Nik, you’re pure evil,” she grunted, blood rushing to her clit in anticipation. “But don’t you think this is anachronistic? They never were this open or proficient with oral techniques in the middle ages.”

There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “How do you know?”

He was right. She didn’t. No one had done this to her before. She couldn’t wait to find out what happened when fire mated with ice. Will the ice douse the flames? Or would the flames vaporise their companion into steam? Which will be the victor and which the vanquished?

He paused, letting her ache build, an intense look in his eyes.

He kneeled between her legs and began tracing her waiting folds with his tongue, coating them. She shivered, but strong arms held her in place. He moved to her clit and began rubbing her with the ice. With a sharp cry, she grabbed the edge of the cushion. This was a sensation unparalleled to anything else. She was on fire, yet cold down there. Her nerves were going crazy as he went back and forth. She squirmed and yelped, demanding he push her to the maximum, and when he slid the ice into the molten heat of her wetness, she moaned loudly. This was as dirty as porn, more indecent than the wettest of her filthiest dreams. But it felt right. It felt so wonderful that it made her dizzy. The ice melted, flowed down his lips to trickle down her folds. She began to tremble, waves of contracting muscles rolling around her, rocking her like a rough sea. She was caught in the storm. Soon to drown and sink right at the bottom. 

He clutched the cheeks of her ass and pulled her tighter against his mouth, probing, punishing. She responded by grabbing the back of his head, wanting more. Tongue thrashing against her, his lips massaging hers; she yelped his name, helpless. Her legs locked around his neck and her body twisted in ecstasy. He continued to eat her out with the diminishing ice cube until the spasms came and her muscles clenched, her climax leaving her juices joining the icy stream. 

That was when he let go. He looked up; her eyes dropped to his cock. “Fire to counter the ice now, Nik.”

He got up, and with surprising strength, lifted her cleanly off the couch. “You can’t—”

“I’m strong enough,” he boasted, Jaime style, and began kissing her again as he pushed her up against the wall. 

She was open to experimenting in bed, and had enjoyed sex in various positions, but standing up with her man holding her was something she never had the privilege yet to experience thanks to her uncommon height for a woman. This was refreshing, exciting, and she kissed him harder as he pressed into her weight, upright despite her wriggling in his arms, holding her tight. He returned her kisses with passion, as if there was nothing else he’d rather be doing than kissing her. His cool mouth was a perfect contrast to hers. But she’d warm him up soon enough. He tasted of scotch and ice. Of her climax. Soon they would both reek of their mutual lust.

 _Fire and ice._ It sounded sexy. It felt so fucking erotic.

As she tensed into his kisses, her body slid down, her ass settling on his erection. She squirmed; tried to adjust herself into position. “You’re killing me,” he grunted against her when she arched back and forth to coat him with her wetness.

“So are you,” she complained back, when he thrust, her pussy gliding along his length to meet his shivering tip.

They kept doing this, and while nothing could beat actual fucking, this was so incredibly good. He held her, squeezing her against him, his strong muscles crushing her soft breasts. She’d had sex before, but this was the sexiest she’d ever indulged in. He was strong. He was gorgeous as hell. Unlike most men, he lifted her back up with ease whenever she slipped. 

She reached between them to guide him to her opening. He relaxed; she slid down into his rigid shaft. All the way in until he crowded her, leaving not a bit of space inside her. He bounced, filling her with stroke after fulfilling stroke. The feel of him was so good. The inward thrust, the way he nudged himself right into her g-spot—his precision was so damn unbelievable! This man sure knew how to please a woman.

“Fuck, this is so good,” she moaned, pressing a helpless palm to his chest when he disappeared into her again, the arch of his length ramming into her needy muscles.

She held tight, hanging on, fighting the rush that was mounting inside her. But endurance had a limit, and when hers was up, she tilted her head backwards and caved in to the onset of a blistering orgasm. He steadied her, and burying his face in her breasts, planted hungry kisses on her nipples.

When it passed, she wanted another. “Nik—”

He moved away; carried her to the couch, and laying her there, mounted her missionary style, a traditional position to end their explosive enactment with. Two strokes, and he was buried again inside her, nice and deep. He showered her with another deluge of his red hot kisses. Each was a molten droplet of fire on her lips. Just like every thrust fuelled the flames inside her again. Slowly at first, then he rode her with increasing pace, slapping her with his flesh, striking her with his balls. Was the sound of their wild fucking sexier than the act itself? Kisses and groping hands. Chest hair and tender breasts. Hard nipples crushing; being crushed. He took her like passion incarnate himself. If lust were to descend on earth in human form, it would be him. If sex happened to have a god, it would be her lover. 

With her arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, she fell into pace with him. She came, not once, but twice, and when her third orgasm crept in on her, she wanted him to join her. He kept the pounding on, his kisses getting harsher as his end drew closer. One more shove of his hips, and he fired hard into her as her contractions strangled his cock. With another, he pushed deeper, throbbing inside her.

His next move was a gentle slide out of her accompanied by a soft brush of his lips to hers. “That was well written and directed,” she complimented, stroking through his damp hair. “Well played, too.”

“We could refine our script further,” Nik naughtily suggested. “Improvise. I can show you a few more tricks I have hidden up my sleeve.”

Gwen traced a finger down his sweaty chest. “I’m game.” 


End file.
